


Beyond Templars and Mages

by badswooplethallin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badswooplethallin/pseuds/badswooplethallin
Summary: Once a Knight Lieutenant, Arielle Kaplan had to get used to the mechanics of working with free mages and the ways they stared at him when he walked by. He could, however, handle the way they left him alone.And then Dorian shows up, ruining that little bit of comfort he had left.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford, Dorian Pavus/Original Male Character(s), Female Adaar/Sera (Dragon Age), Leliana/Josephine Montilyet
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Arielle Kaplan wishes he wasn't here, wishes he wasn't with him, of all people. But they were stuck searching for a lost messenger, when things take a deadly turn.

“You don’t like me very much, do you, Lieutenant?”

Arielle bit down on the inside of his cheek and moved further away from Dorian, the water and mud sloshing around his boots. He could not understand why he agreed to travel to the Fallow Mire, especially alone with the Tevinter mage, of all people. Dorian jogged to meet up with Arielle, their shoulders brushing together. 

“Is it the magic? I bet it is the magic,” Dorian winked, flashing a wide smile, filling Arielle’s stomach with nervous flutters. He shook his head and kept moving, hand resting on the pommel of his sword, and stared straight ahead. “What is wrong, Lieutenant?”

“I’m not a Lieutenant anymore, mage. I left that title when I left Kirkwall,” Arielle said, stopping at the end of a broken dock, feeling it dip under his weight.

“Wounded, aren’t you?” Dorian tilted his head.

The soldier turned around to face the mage, eyes narrowed. He felt a tug, took notice of the panic that crossed Dorian’s face, as Arielle was being pulled underwater. Water flooded his lungs the deeper he went, his hair freeing itself from its braid. The stench of rotting flesh and piss permeated his nose, and he jerked his head back, swinging his arms up as if to grab at something, anything. He was surrounded, his hair striped across his face, and hands were pulling at his armor, stripping him. 

There was a flash of white light, and he was thrown onto the ground, spitting out water and the blood from biting down on his cheek. Gasping for air, he wiped a hand over his eyes and stared up at the black sky, his lungs burning. He felt stripped down to nothing, naked in the eyes of the Maker, his armor gone and his strength all but lost. 

“Arielle!” Hands were on his face, pushing away his hair, wiping off mud and blood. He let his head turn, staring up at Dorian. The moon was shining behind him, silver and large, shining off his staff. “Keep those eyes open, soldier boy.”

He blinked, and the world went dark.

Arielle woke up slowly, then all at once, throwing the blankets onto the floor and standing up to gather himself. The room smelled sweet and warm, so unlike his own chambers. He brushed back his hair, which was now loose and falling over his shoulders, red against his freckled skin. He looked around, unsure of the space he was in. 

“Oh, I am glad to know I’m going to win that bet.”

Arielle startled and turned towards the door, where Dorian was standing, a grin on his lips. His eyebrow was raised as his eyes flicked downwards, and Arielle’s own eyes followed. He was barely clothed in a tunic and tight trousers, clinging to him in ways that he had never worn for others to see before. Cheeks red, he snatched the blanket off the floor and held it in front of him, eyes moving everywhere but at Dorian. 

“Where are my clothes? And where am I?” Arielle asked.

Dorian moved towards a chest tucked into the corner, grabbing a set of clothes folded on top. “Here. And you’re in my room.”

Panicked, Arielle looked around, his heart thumping against his chest. Had they done…things? No. They were in Fallow Mire, and he was suddenly underwater, drowning. Dying.

And then there was Dorian standing over him, the moon behind him, handsome. So incredibly dashing.

“Do you remember now?” Dorian’s smile had fallen, a somber look in his eyes. He moved closer, handing the soldier his clothing, and moved back.

“You saved me. Why would you do that?”

“Why would I save a fellow companion?”

Arielle frowned. “You know what I mean. Templars hate mages?”

“If I remember correctly, Lieutenant, you left that title when you left Kirkwall.” Though his words were joking, the frown on Dorian’s lips spoke something else entirely. “I would suggest you get dressed. Cullen has been asking for you.”

Dorian moved to leave, the cold air of Haven invading the warmth of the room. Dressing quickly, Arielle jogged to catch up, nearly knocking the mage over. Both men stopped and faced each other, and Arielle was struck with just how handsome the Tevinter mage was, his heart a drum in his chest. Silence passed between them, with neither man brave enough to speak. Biting his cheek, Arielle looked towards the steps, where Solas was standing, and then looked back at Dorian, a smile on the soldier’s lips.

“Thank you, Dorian. For saving me and for taking care of me,” Arielle paused. He could hear his fellow soldiers in the distance, reminding him where he needed to be. “And, for the record, I do like you. Well, I…I appreciate your presence. Oh, Maker’s breath.”

Dorian laughed, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled, his laugh like a bell. Hearing it made Arielle warm all over, especially knowing he caused it. When he stopped, Dorian looked the soldier in the eyes.

“I like you, too, Lieutenant.”


	2. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Redcliffe becomes more interesting when the team meets a dashing mage.

_The courtyard was quiet, save for the small groups of Templars scattered around. Knight Lieutenant Arielle stood with his back against the wall and his eyes on any who entered, ignoring the ones trying to get his attention. There were a few women near him, giggling and waving to catch his eye, blushing when he happened to glance in their direction. He squared his shoulders when Knight Commander Meredith walked by, holding his breath until she turned the corner to head to the Gallows fortress. The women, who had previously gone silent, were now closer, their whispers just quiet enough for him not to hear._

_It was not until Marian Hawke and her band of misfits came waltzing in that things took a turn for the worse._

_Arielle quickly recognized the Hawke woman, her casual demeanor too relaxed for the Templar’s liking. She kept her staff out as if to assert her untouchable nature as Kirkwall’s Champion, unable to be interrupted even by the Templars in their own territory. She was followed by Isabela, a captain without a ship who winked and patted Arielle’s butt each time they crossed paths; Anders, who kept his eyes open as he walked too close to Hawke; and then there was Varric, the paragon of writing and a down-right twit when he wanted to be._

_He bit down on his cheek, holding back the urge to walk away as the group approached him._

_Maker’s Breath, what now?_

_“Hello, Lieutenant. Seems like such a long time since we last ran into each other. I almost forgot your handsome face!” Hawke gave the Templar a playful pat on the cheek and grinned. Her eyes shined as she stepped away from him, so comfortable with her band of troublemakers and thieves._

_Arielle grunted in response, not wanting to draw any more attention from his companions across the yard. Though, it seemed as if they cared more about each other than the Lieutenant and his unwanted guests._

_“What can I do for you, Champion?” He asked._

_“You see, we have a bit of a need for a strong man to assist us in dealing with some bandits trying to take over Lowtown,” she tilted her head and smiled, her voice sweet but sickly._

_The Templar frowned, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “You’ve never needed help with bandits before, Champion. Especially not from Templars.”_

_Hawke sighed and looked around at her companions._

_“C’mon, red. We just need an extra bit of muscle,” Isabella smiled and drew closer, a gleam in her eyes that spoke of nothing but mischief. She went to place a hand on his chest, stopping only when he flinched away from her touch, eyes narrowed. She raised her hands in defeat and moved back to where she had been standing._

_“Why ask me? Why not one of your other strong friends? I recall an elf who wielded a sword almost as tall as himself?” Arielle glanced at Hawke, noticing the drop in her smile, the way her eyes fell to the ground. “Ah, not on speaking terms, it would seem.” He paused, looking around. A beat, a second passed. “Fine, Champion, but no more after this.”_

* * *

“It’s just a few bandits, red,” Varric said as they continued to Redcliffe, less put-together than when they left Haven. He glanced up at Arielle and flashed a crooked grin, nudging him with Bianca as they continued to the village.

“It is never just a _few_ bandits, Varric.” Arielle peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pouch. “Especially never with you. Or Hawke.”

They shared a slow look, the silent promise kept between them that prevented either of them from saying anything about what happened at Kirkwall, the aftermath of the mages and the Templars. It had been an absolute shit-show, neither side coming out the winner after Meredith…and after Orsino. There were many nights the image of the Knight Commander – or whatever she was – frozen as a lyrium statue in the courtyard. The red of the crystal, her once blue eyes now glowing red.

“Arielle?” Herald Adaar was looking down at him, a solemn smile on her lips, “Are you alright?”

“Doing fine, Herald.”

* * *

The Rift snapped shut as Nazaan ripped away her arm, gritting her teeth as she turned to face the handsome stranger. Arielle stepped up next to the Herald, directing his sword at the mage. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face, and his hair had fallen from its braid, red strands stuck to his forehead.

“Fascinating! How does that work exactly? You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.” The man smiled, his eyes darting the Arielle before looking back at Nazaan.

“Who are you?” She asked, squaring her shoulders as she returned her staff to its place on her back.

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

_Suave bastard_ , Arielle thought as he lowered his sword, stepping back to examine the area. Everything was tattered and broken, pews pressed up against pillars and banners torn. He recognized a native of Tevinter right away, having dealt with them many times in Kirkwall. Though, none of them were mages. From behind them, Bull grumbled under his breath, something about not trusting the ‘pretty ones’.

“Suspicious friends you have here. And a Templar? Interesting.”

Arielle frowned and pulled his cloak closer to his body, covering up what he could of his armor. He should have listened to Cullen about changing it before they traveled to Redcliffe, but he was too focused on ending this conflict. He had not thought what wearing the armor would do.

“Why did Felix lead us here?” Nazaan asked.

The mage, Dorian, glanced up at where the Rift had been, as if he could still feel the rumble of the Rift.

“His father was once my mentor. My assistance was valuable to him, as I would learn.”

“And where is Felix? I expected him to be here,” she frowned.

“He had to ditch his father, but he should be here soon.” The mage glanced at Arielle once more, lingering. The soldier felt the hairs on his neck stand, and he faced his companions, avoiding any type of eye contact with the man.

Bull and Varric were fidgeting as well, doing whatever they could to distract themselves until they could leave. Arielle walked over to them, the Herald and the mage in the back of his mind.

“Always the pretty ones,” Bull muttered. Varric chuckled, glancing up at the soldier. “You alright, Red?”

Arielle nodded his head, even though his stomach was in a knot and his hands were damp in his gloves. Footsteps drew him back to the Herald as Felix walked up, looking sickly and just as uncomfortable.

“Took you long enough. Is he suspicious?” Dorian asked his friend.

“For now, but I should not have played the illness card. He was fussing over me. But, regarding my father, he has joined a cult. The Tevinter Supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori.’ And he’s doing all of it to get to you.” Felix looked between the Herald and Dorian.

“We need to stop him,” Nazaan said, “Dorian, would it be alright if you came back to Haven with us? We must not let Alexius know you’re here, and we need you for when we plan to deal with his plan.”

The mage flashed a smile, his eyes darting to Arielle. “Oh, how wonderful. Though, I wonder how some of your companions will take me being there?”

Though Nazaan did not look back at where his eyes were, she knew what he meant. “My companions will be fine.”

“Then, I will gladly come to Haven. I’m sure I can find a place to stay there.”

Felix nodded, and they began to part, Arielle lingering behind to check out for supplies. As he was grabbing a book from the desk, he noticed a set of boots next to him. He turned his head to look at the mage, his fingers pressing into the leather cover.

“Now, how did a Templar soldier end up with the Herald?”

Arielle looked over his shoulder to see Nazaan watching them. She offered him a smile before heading out the door with the others.

“We were recruited. I was a Lieutenant back in Kirkwall.”

“Well, I look forward to getting to know you, Lieutenant.” Dorian winked before walking away, the soldier left standing in the room, his heart thumping against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it. In the next few weeks, I do want to start a schedule for when I upload, but that all depends on school and life.
> 
> Anyways, have a nice day!


	3. The Winter Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Palace brings Dorian and Arielle closer together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I apologize for how long this took. School started up, and it's my last semester, so I've been busy. I hope to have another chapter up soon, and I'm also planning a new series regarding everyone's favorite hairy-chested dwarf.
> 
> Until then, thank you and enjoy the chapter!

The Guest Garden was full of people, some already tipsy and throwing themselves into the arms of strangers. Standing by the fountain, Dorian was sipping on Vint-9 Rowan’s Rose, wrinkling his nose at the strange comfort it left on his tongue. A few of the nobles gave him brief glances, some sneering at his presence, but he chose to ignore them. If anything, he was used to the looks. Fiddling with the blue silk tied around his chest, he questioned his place here, in this atrocious uniform, among people who hid their valuables when he neared them. Inquisitor Adaar had walked by at one point, offering him a smile before she seemed to climb the garden wall to the balcony. Since then, he had not seen her, and he was alone again.

One of the side door swung open, nearly knocking a couple of gossiping nobles off their feet. He chuckled, taking another sip of his drink, as a flustered Arielle stormed out into the garden. The top button of his shirt was undone, and he was struggling to rebutton it when he stopped in front of Dorian. His hair had fallen from its braid, red tendrils curling around his cheeks. He looked up and met the mage’s mischievous stare.

“What?” Arielle asked. 

“Nothing.” Dorian set his drink down on the fountain and stepped forward, carefully rebuttoning his shirt. He patted the man’s chest, briefly feeling the muscle underneath before grabbing his drink once more. The redness in Arielle’s cheeks darkened, and he pushed his hair back, yanking the tie that held the rest of the braid in place. “The girls get to you?”

Frowning, Arielle sighed and took a seat, wiping a hand down his face. “I was talking to the Commander when I was suddenly being dragged away by these women in huge dresses. They were giggling and pulling at my clothes and hair until Varric showed up and got rid of them. Maker’s Beard, I thought I would never get away.”

Dorian chuckled and took a seat next to him, handing him his drink. Arielle glanced at the glass before taking it, falling into a coughing fit when he took a sip. He scrunched up his nose and handed the drink back, letting out a heavy breath and closing his eyes.

Both men sat in silence, taking in the whispers around them. A few of the nobles were watching them, looking away only when they were noticed. Dorian caught a snippet of the conversations, mentioning the ‘Templar’ and ‘Tevinter mage’. Rolling his eyes, the mage sat back and waiting. The air was crisp and cool, smelling of sweets and wine and rich food. At some point, Dorian felt a weight on his shoulder, and he turned his head. Arielle was resting, his head on the mage’s shoulder. His eyes were closed still, and he had removed his gloves. The whispers were more prominent now and only about them.

Inquisitor Adaar stood before Florianne and the rest of the guests, the Anchor sparking beneath her glove. As always, Sera was by her side, reaching for the blade she had tucked away under the sashes and buttons. Bull, Varric, and Cassandra were not far behind, though they kept their aggression down until the Inquisitor issued an order.  
“The eyes of every noble in the empire are upon us, Your Grace. Remember to smile,” Nazaan said, her voice smooth and careful. She approached the Duchess, towering above her despite Florianne being in heels. “This is your party. You wouldn’t want them to think you had lost control.”

The Duchess backed away, beads of sweat running down her face beneath the intricate mask.

“Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?” Her voice trembled, her eyes darting around to the hidden faces of the guests.

Nazaan squared her broad shoulders and stood still. “I seem to recall you saying, ‘All I needed was to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike.’ When your archers failed to kill me in the garden, I feared you wouldn’t save me this last dance.” The nobles grew louder, looking at each other and then at the Duchess. The Empress stood at her perch and, despite her delicate hands and cool expression, there was fear in her eyes. “It’s so easy to lose your good graces. You even framed your brother for the murder of a council emissary.” Gaspard, with Briala not far behind, approached, shaking his head. “It was an ambitious plan. Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds…all your enemies under one roof.”

The nobles were nearly screaming now. Followed by Dorian, Arielle rushed into the ballroom, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. 

Florianne, flustered now, spoke, “This is very entertaining, but you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?”

Celene, staring down at the Duchess, narrowed her eyes from behind her mask. “That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin.”

Seeking for an ally, the Duchess looked to her brother, pleading with him. Instead of falling to her cries, he walked away as the guards came for Florianne. She stumbled and faced the Qunari, hands raised in fear.

“Take her away,” Nazaan ordered. The Inquisition gathered around her, Cullen at the front, and checked to make sure she was not injured from the fight against Florianne's men. "Arielle, Dorian, can you both go around outside and check for any more men? Briala sent out some of her own people, but I wanted to do another sweep." She turned, meeting the eyes of the Empress. They exchanged a look before the Inquisitor faced her companions once more. "Take some time to enjoy the party. I believe we all deserve the rest." She offered them goodbye before heading up the steps, following Celene out to the back balcony.

Arielle wiped the blood off his blade, looking down at the last of the archers Florianne had thrown at them. Dorian was near a set of stairs, bodies scattered around him. He stepped over them and approached the soldier, placing a hand on his shoulder. Arielle flinched, turning towards the mage.

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” Dorian said, his smile small.

“I thought I said I…oh, forget it. Call me whatever you want,” Arielle sheathed his sword as music from inside started up, slightly muffled. He turned to start walking to the door when he noticed Dorian reaching out, hand upwards. “What?”

“May I have this dance, Lieutenant?” Dorian smiled.

Confused, Arielle looked around, wondering if he had missed something. When he faced the mage once more, his hand was still stretched out, and that damned smile was still there. “Look, I don’t really dance.”

Dorian chuckled and took Arielle’s hand, pulling their bodies together. He placed a hand on the man’s waist, feeling his body tense before relaxing. The movement started out slow, with Arielle staring down at their feet. Stopping, Dorian slipped a finger beneath his partner’s chin, tipping his head up so their eyes met. His cheeks flushed red, Arielle held his breath, letting the mage lead their dance.

“You’re doing just fine, Arielle.” The sound of his name on the Tevinter’s tongue sent a shiver down his spine, and he tightened his grip on Dorian’s hand. A surge of cold went through him, and he stepped back, realizing just how chilly it was outside. He rubbed his arms and looked around, pushing away the warmth Dorian had radiating off him. Laughter sounded from behind him, the mage stepping up next to him. There was a moment of quiet before Dorian leaned down, pressing his lips to the corner of Arielle’s mouth. When he moved back, it was just enough for Arielle to feel the heat of his breath on his face.

Grinning, the mage spoke, “Keep warm, Lieutenant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you to those for bookmarking this and those reading the story.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> After some consideration, I decided to make this a series of short stories instead of a full-blown fanfiction, as I am planning that for another Dragon Age pairing. For now, this will have multiple short stories detailing the relationship between Arielle (former Templar) and Dorian Pavus. I do hope readers enjoy this and aren't so bothered by any mistakes as I am the only one looking over this once it is done.
> 
> Other relationships will make an appearance over the course of this series.
> 
> Thank you!


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